


Teamwork

by bellacatbee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Castiel, Double Anal Penetration, Double Penetration, Dry Orgasm, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Foursome, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 16:05:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellacatbee/pseuds/bellacatbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel is hit by a sex spell, Dean tries to help him through it. On his own, he isn't enough, but there are other realities, other timelines and other Deans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teamwork

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to authocracy for beta-reading!

“It’s okay, Cas. It’s okay.”

Dean ran a hand down Castiel’s back, feeling the angel shift and move, pushing his hips up demandingly. Castiel was hot to the touch, burning up. Dean kept telling him it would be okay, but he wasn’t sure it would be, not if this summoning spell didn’t work. 

When Cas had been hit by a badly-muttered curse, they’d laughed. Dean had laughed and Castiel had shaken his head, smiling because he was an angel and a simple witch’s spells wouldn’t work on him. They’d dusted off the Coven and counted it as a win.

It was on the drive back that Castiel complained of feeling hot. He was always warm but when Dean had touched his forehead he’d been feverish. Castiel had let out a little moan, his eyes flickering closed and that had been when Dean had known. By the time he’d got them back to the motel that was serving as their base for this particular job, Castiel had stripped down to just his underwear, palming himself through the front of his tight, white shorts. 

Dean had had a hard time fighting him back into his coat long enough to get him inside their room. 

Castiel had begged him the moment the door was shut, pressing Dean back against it forcefully, kissing him till Dean thought he was going to pass out. They’d fucked right there, on the carpet in front of the door, Castiel’s nails raking down his back, and Dean had hoped that would be enough. 

He’d had five minutes of staring down at Castiel’s tired, sated face. Five minutes in which he thought he’d broken the spell and then Castiel was hard again, clenching down on Dean’s cock inside him and begging Dean to fuck him again. 

That had been hours ago now and Dean physically couldn’t get hard any more. Castiel had wrung everything from him and it still hadn’t been enough. Castiel had thrashed about on the bed, growing more and more desperate, and there wasn’t anything Dean could do. He’d tried fucking Castiel with his fingers, he’d blown him. He’d rimmed him till Castiel came screaming out his name, fingers clenched in Dean’s hair, but the symptoms had only subsided for about a minute when he did something that wasn’t full-on, penetrative sex.

His cock was sore and aching. Dean had stroked himself, tried his best to make himself hard but it was just hurting. 

It had broken Dean’s heart to know he wasn’t going to be enough. He didn’t want another man touching Castiel. It made him feel sick but he didn’t want Castiel to die or be driven insane because Dean on his own wasn’t enough to break the curse. He’d voiced his suspicions to Castiel and his suggested fix for their predicament – that they find a second man to fuck Castiel.

Castiel had opened his eyes and he’d focused on Dean. It had been the clearest, the most coherent he’d been in hours. 

“No,” he’d said. “I don’t want anyone else, Dean. I can’t!”

Dean had realized, his gut twisting, that the spell had been targeted specifically to Castiel. The witch who’d cast it had been old and powerful. She’d known what she was dealing with. She’d cast a spell to target an angel. He wondered if she’d guessed he and Dean were together, or if she’d just thought the worst thing an angel could experience would be overwhelming lust. Dean knew Castiel would have hated it if he’d been in his right mind. He would have found it demeaning. 

It was just that witch’s luck that she’d managed to hit on a curse that would force them to do something neither of them wanted. 

Dean was a possessive guy. He’d never, ever got off on the idea of sharing his partners, even when it was all in a consensual setting, and this right now was anything but consensual. Castiel wouldn’t care what was being done to him or by whom and that wasn’t Castiel at all. Castiel had always cared. He’d always been proud Dean was his first, pleased about it to an extent that only fed Dean’s ego. Dean was going to be his only, and now that couldn’t be the case. 

Dean had called Sam because he hadn’t known what else to do. His brother had stayed behind in the bunker, working on research. Dean still didn’t know what he’d expected Sam to do. He’d made it clear he didn’t want Sam offering to lend a helping hand. They might need to get another guy in to fuck Castiel, but it wasn’t going to be Sam. There was no way any of them would ever be able to look each other in the eye again. 

He’d been hoping for Sam to find a miracle for him, a cure, and Sam had found the next best thing. 

It was a technicality, but Dean was damn well willing to try it. Castiel said he didn’t want anyone else but Dean, so Dean was going to give him more of him. 

Sam was working on the ritual while Dean took care of an agitated Castiel. They’d know if it worked soon enough. Otherwise, they’d have to resort to plan B. Dean would have to go through his phone and try to find someone he trusted enough with Castiel, who’d be willing and able to help them out. It wasn’t as if Dean was about to hit bars, looking for some sleazy loner to come fuck his suddenly insatiable boyfriend. 

There was a loud bang. The light bulb overhead flicked, plunging the room into darkness and when the lights came back up, there were two other men standing in the room. 

Dean knew both of them. One of them, he’d met before and the other one he’d been brainwashed into believing he was. He was looking at his future self and Dean Smith, a man who, until he appeared, Dean had thought existed only as a figment of Zachariah’s warped imagination. 

“Spell worked, baby,” he muttered to Castiel. 

Castiel’s only response was to moan and rub his hips into the mattress beneath him. 

Dean got to his feet warily. 

He hadn’t much warmed to his future self and Dean Smith had been a diet obsessed control freak, a pale shadow of the man Dean actually was. Even if he didn’t like these versions of himself, he could put that aside. It was Castiel’s life at risk here. Sam’s spell had located two alternative versions of Dean, just like Sam had promised and now that they were here, Dean had to spell out to them exactly what was on the line. 

“Castiel’s in trouble,” he said. 

His future self was on immediate alert. 

“What happened?”

“He got hit by a fuck-or-die spell, he can’t shake it. I’ve tried and,” Dean’s voice caught in his throat. He didn’t want to admit he couldn’t help any more, not even to other versions of himself. Dean already knew he judged himself harder than anybody else did. He didn’t want to tell them he was having trouble with a limp dick. 

“Say no more,” the future-Dean said. 

He clapped Dean on the shoulder, a moment of understanding passing between them before he moved on, passed him and towards the bed. 

Dean was grateful at least one of the people Sam’s spell had conjured up knew about spells and hunting. His future self was already stripping off, kneeling on the bed next to Castiel. 

“I got you, sweetheart,” he said, with a tenderness Dean didn’t think he’d ever heard his future-self use. He can’t help wondering if it’s because this was Castiel. Even then, he remembered how his future-self used to bark orders at Castiel, how he was prepared to send Cas to his death. It made Dean feel so angry, so much so he almost wanted to pull the man off Castiel, to tell him he didn’t deserve the right to touch him. 

He only stopped himself because he knew he needed him. 

Once Castiel was cured, once Dean knew he was fine, he could drag that bastard version of himself off the bed and remind him that he should never have taken Castiel or his life for granted. 

He’d got another version of himself to worry about first though. Dean Smith was standing there, looking completely out of place in his $800 suit. His lip was curled in disgust. Dean sighed, squaring his shoulders and took a step towards him. 

“Why am I here?” Dean Smith demanded. “Who are you?”

“I’m you. I don’t want to get technical, I just need you to fuck the guy on the bed, you get me?” Dean said, jerking his thumb towards the bed where his future-self already had Castiel up on his hands and knees, sliding in, the way eased by Dean’s come. “Just think of this as a dream if that makes it any better.” 

Dean Smith stared past Dean, his eyes widening as he watched a mirror image of himself fucking Castiel. Dean turned just to check, make sure that his future-self wasn’t being too hard on Cas. He was setting a brutal pace but Castiel seemed to love it, moaning happily and pushing back eagerly for more. 

Dean Smith swallowed.

“You can’t just bring me here and tell me to fuck some guy I don’t even know.” 

Dean stepped closer to him, lowering his voice. 

“I know you. I was you for a little while. I know that there’s something empty inside you, that you’re trying to fill up with fad diets and exerting control over every little bit off your life, but that you can’t.” He prodded his finger into the center of Dean Smith’s chest, emphasizing his words with each little hit.

The man looked down at the finger jabbing at him then smiled, pushing Dean’s hand away. 

“If you’re trying to tell me I’m gay, I already know that. It doesn’t mean I want to fuck every guy on offer.”

“I’m not talking about you being gay,” Dean said, gritting his teeth. “The part of you that’s missing, it’s Castiel.” 

“Castiel?” Dean Smith raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

“The guy on the bed,” Dean said angrily. “His name is Castiel. Until you meet him, your life isn’t going to be complete. No matter how many people you fuck, no matter what you do, no one is going to make you feel the way he makes you feel. You’re going to love him so much that it physically hurts.”

Dean Smith inhaled sharply. He looked past Dean again, towards the bed, licking his lips. 

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked. 

“He got hit by a spell. There were witches. It’s messed with his head, with his body, made him want sex. If he doesn’t get it, it’ll drive him mad. He might even die.”

If Dean Smith was surprised by the mention of witches and the occult, it didn’t show on his face. Maybe Zachariah had been right, maybe hunting really was in Dean’s blood and it didn’t matter where he was or who he was, hunting always found him. He might wear a nice suit, stalk a boardroom by day, but by night he was still taking care of business. 

“And you?” Dean Smith asked. 

“I’ve tried my best. You two are my back up.” 

Dean hated knowing he hadn’t been enough. He hated knowing that he needed the help of these pale imitations of himself. Both of them were flawed. Neither of them deserved to touch his Castiel but Dean didn’t have any choice in the matter. Castiel needed them. 

“What if it doesn’t work?” 

Dean swallowed. “Then I keep calling up other versions of me till it does.” 

“Right,” Dean Smith said, loosening his tie. “Are we taking turns or what?” 

“Both!” Castiel gasped. “I want both.”

Dean hadn’t been aware Castiel was listening. He hadn’t thought Castiel had it in him to concentrate on anything but getting fucked right now. He shuffled, slightly embarrassed now. He might not have been quite so candid about his feelings if he’d known Castiel was listening. He wanted Castiel to know he loved him. He hoped Castiel always knew that, but Dean wasn’t one for big declarations. It was one thing for him to give another version of himself some home truths, but something completely different for Castiel to overhear him. Right now wasn’t the time to dwell on being embarrassed though. Right now, he had to look after Castiel. 

Dean crossed to the bed, kneeling in front of Castiel. He stroked his fingers over Castiel’s cheek, tipping his head up. He concentrated on Castiel and not on the man behind Castiel, pounding into him. 

“You sure you can take both of them, Cas?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the corner of Castiel’s mouth. He’d fucked Castiel till he was pretty sloppy and open but as wide and stretched as Castiel’s hole was, Castiel was still used to taking just one cock at a time. The closest they’d ever come to experimenting with more had been Dean slipping two of his fingers in alongside his cock, pulling Castiel wide so he could watch his cock slide in and out. 

Dean wasn’t sure Castiel was even thinking straight at this point.

“I can do it,” Castiel groaned. “I want them both. Dean, I can take it.” 

Dean knew that Castiel would heal if he was hurt. He knew it, but that didn’t mean he liked the idea of Castiel being in pain. Castiel, as lust-addled as he was now, wouldn’t remember to heal himself. 

Dean kissed his cheek. 

“I don’t know, Cas,” he said.

“He can take it,” his future -self interrupted. He slapped Castiel on the swell of his ass, eliciting a moan from Castiel. “I’ve done it with him.” 

“You let other men touch him?” Dean asked. He already knew the answer. He’d seen that twisted future’s version of Castiel. The guy was so high he wouldn’t even know what was happening to him. 

“He likes it,” his future-self growled. 

“He’d like anything if it meant being close to you,” Dean said angrily. 

They glared at each other across the length of Castiel’s body, his future-self stilling in his thrusts and Castiel whined, rocking back, trying to get the man to move again. 

“Please, Dean, don’t fight. I want this,” Castiel begged. 

“You going to tell him no?” his future-self asked. He watched Dean’s face closely. “It’s impossible to tell him no when he gets going like this.” 

Dean groaned. He knew that was true. If Castiel kept asking, kept begging in that sweet, broken voice, then Dean wouldn’t be able to hold out. He looked away, beckoning the now naked Dean Smith to join them on the bed. 

“You stop if he’s in pain, right?” he said, looking from Dean Smith to his future self, not willing to give in completely till he’d heard it from the both of them. 

“Immediately,” Dean Smith agreed, without hesitation.

His future-self was a bit slower but he nodded after a moment.

“Yeah, we stop,” he agreed. 

“Dean,” Castiel whimpered. 

“Right, you’ve done this before,” Dean said, pointing at his future-self. “What do we do?”

“Position’s no good,” Future-Dean grunted. He settled back on his haunches, pulling Castiel with him. He spread Castiel’s legs wide, holding them open, giving the two other men on the bed a perfect view of Castiel’s hole clenching down on his cock. 

“Fuck,” Dean Smith swore. “He’s so tight. He’s never going to fit both of us.”

“Yes, he will,” future-Dean ground out from between gritted teeth. “He’s just tightening up because I’ve got him riding my cock. He’s so fucking wet. Don’t you worry; your cock is going to fit in here right next to mine.” 

Dean glanced at the future version of himself, having a hard time tearing himself away from the sight of Castiel’s hole fluttering, clenching and unclenching, around the hard cock buried inside him. 

“This ever happen in your time line?” he asked. It would be good to have some reassurance, some promise that this would work. 

“Yeah. But I didn’t get creative like you did. I just found some other guy, some random trucker. Cas couldn’t even look at me in the morning.” 

Dean wondered if that had been one of the things that had started pushing those two apart. He knew that version of himself was all about the end goal. He didn’t stop to think about who might get hurt along the way. Saving Cas had meant hurting Cas and he’d been alright with that. Maybe that was when his Castiel had got the idea that sex was meaningless. Dean’s Castiel, the one on the bed right now, thought it was something special, something shared between two people in love. Dean never wanted him to lose that. He never wanted Castiel to change. 

That drugged-up, strung-out Castiel who’d been anyone’s still haunted him. 

Dean liked sex. He liked it a lot. Sex to him didn’t have to mean anything more than two people having fun, but he’d seen the hollowness in that Castiel’s eyes. That Castiel hadn’t been having sex because he enjoyed it. He’d been having sex because he was a masochist. The world had been burning down around him and he’d lost the one person who was most important to him. The more Dean pulled away from him, the worse he’d gotten. 

Dean swallowed, hoping that in this version of events, Castiel wouldn’t wake up regretting what Dean had done to protect him. 

He couldn’t have Castiel change like that. He couldn’t stand it. 

Despite himself, he moved so he was the one kneeling in front of Castiel, cupping his face gently in both his hands and kissed the angel. 

“Don’t hate me for this, Cas,” he breathed, the words swallowed up by Castiel’s eager mouth as he tried to keep Dean with him, tried to steal more kisses. 

“Do you want to fuck him?” Dean Smith asked, interrupting Dean, reminding him that he wasn’t one on his own. “I don’t mind. I don’t.”

He was staring at Castiel, his cheeks flushed and Dean damn well knew he was falling in love with Castiel. It was impossible not to. Even delirious and out of it like this, Castiel was still the most gorgeous thing Dean had ever seen. He wanted to protect him, wanted to save him from himself and from this curse. 

He’d give anything to be the one fucking Castiel. His cock gave a twitch of interest but it wasn’t enough. His balls felt tight and sore. 

“I can’t,” he said angrily. 

“But you and him….”

Dean shut his eyes, gritting his teeth and wished that the Dean Smith version of himself didn’t have such an issue with fucking another man’s angel. It was great to know that he cared so much. In any other circumstance, Dean would be thrilled to know the guy wouldn’t fuck Cas, that he realized Castiel was Dean’s, but not in this one. He found himself wishing he’d found another no-nonsense, militaristic jackass version of himself who’d just get the job done and wouldn’t worry about how Dean was coping. 

“Will you stop worrying about me?” he growled, opening his eyes again to glare at the other him. “Yeah, the guy’s the fucking love of my life, so you save his ass.” 

“Right,” Dean Smith said, taking a deep breath. “Okay. I can do this.”

“Just don’t….don’t kiss him,” Dean said. He needed that rule in place. It might have seemed strange to them, since the other two men on the bed were versions of himself, but Dean wanted to keep something special back for himself. He wanted to save something just between himself and Castiel. The rest of Castiel’s body wasn’t off-limits, but he wanted his lips to be. 

“Sure,” Dean Smith agreed. “I won’t kiss him.”

Dean didn’t think he had to ask his future-self for the same courtesy. He didn’t think his future-self had kissed Castiel in a long time. He didn’t think his future-self wanted to anymore. He’d given up on having anything that belonged to just himself and Castiel. 

“What do I need to do?” Dean Smith asked, edging away from Dean and turning to face Castiel, his eyes flickering up and down the length of Castiel’s body. He licked his lips.

“Get up here, get between his legs,” the future-Dean said. Dean Smith complied, moving till he was right between Castiel’s legs, chests pressed together, breathing in the same breath as him. “Right, take hold of your cock.”

“Lube!” Dean said, interrupting them. 

“He doesn’t need it.”

“Yes, he does,” Dean said angrily. He picked up a bottle from the nightstand and tossed it to Dean Smith. “And you’ll want it too. It’s going to be a tight fit.” 

Dean Smith caught the bottle, nodding his head in thanks. He uncapped the bottle, pouring a handful on to his cock. He stroked his hand up and down, getting his cock completely coated. Dean would almost say he’d used too much, Cas was already slippery and wet, but they were going to need to push right in, no friction or resistance. 

“Get your fingers wet,” the future-Dean growled. “I want you to open him up. Get your fingers in here.”

Dean bit his lip, holding back a groan. This bit he could have done. He could have stretched Castiel open, felt how tight and full he was with another’s cock inside him. He could have reassured Castiel, could have kissed him while he worked him open but Dean knew it was better that he sat back and acted as an observer only. He might have not have been able to pull back when the time came. 

Dean Smith pressed a single finger against the rim of Castiel’s hole. He swallowed, pressing it forward until it slipped in neatly alongside the cock already buried tight in him. 

“Two more,” future-Dean instructed him. “Spread him nice and wide.” 

It was obscene how easily the next two fingers slipped in. Castiel wiggled and gasped, his eyes falling shut as Dean Smith pumped his fingers in and out. Dean’s future-self rolled his hips, holding Castiel’s legs wide and from his vantage point, Dean got a perfect view of Castiel being fucked. 

His cock gave another twitch of interest and Dean couldn’t stop the pained noise that escaped from between his lips. He wished he didn’t find all of this so arousing. His cock was trying, valiantly, to get hard. No matter what Dean told himself, he wanted to be the one who was fucking Castiel. 

“Just get it over with,” he hissed. 

Dean Smith pulled his fingers free, causing Castiel to moan loudly. That sound didn’t do anything to dim Dean’s growing erection. He grabbed the bottle of lube, uncapping it and poured the rest of it over his cock, the cool gel soothing for a few seconds. Dean wrapped his fingers around his cock, stroking himself gingerly as he watched. Dean Smith had his fingers around his own cock. He guided the head of it to press against the rim of Castiel’s hole, taking a deep breath. 

“It’ll fit. Just keep going,” the future-Dean promised. 

Dean Smith took a deep breath, pushing forward. There was a moment of resistance, a moment where Castiel’s eyes opened wide and Dean wanted to tell them all to stop, and then Castiel relaxed. A second later, Dean Smith groaned, his cock half buried in Castiel’s tight hole. 

“Fuck,” he swore. “Fuck, he’s so fucking tight.” 

“Don’t move,” the future-Dean said. “Let me do it. This feel good, Cas?

It was the first time he’d addressed Castiel directly since he’d started fucking him. Castiel let his head loll back, smiling at the future-Dean. 

“Feels so good,” he said, the words slightly slurred. “Like being filled.” 

He reached out his hand for Dean, the real Dean, the one who was his own and Dean took it. 

“What do you want, Cas?” he asked. 

The other two men on the bed were engaged in the task of making sure Castiel was properly filled and properly fucked. Dean Smith had his eyes closed, head bowed, fingers gripping tightly into Castiel’s hips. The future Dean had his hands up under Castiel’s thighs, holding his legs wide as he rolled his hips in unhurried, slow little movements, drawing it out. Both of them were concentrating on Castiel, completely focused on him, but neither of them were the one that Castiel was interested in. 

“I want to suck you,” Castiel said, tugging Dean closer to him. “I want your cock in my mouth.”

“Cas,” Dean hissed. His cock was half-hard but he didn’t think he could come again. He wasn’t even sure it was a good idea. Castiel was already stuffed so full. 

“Dean, I want to,” Castiel said. His meet Dean’s gaze, fixing him with an imperious look, the one he used when he wanted Dean listen to him. 

Dean shook his head, angry at himself. He knew he couldn’t refuse Castiel. He knew even if he thought this was a bad idea, he’d still go along with it. Castiel was asking him, begging him, and Dean wanted to feel Castiel’s sweet mouth on him. 

He stood up, the bed springs creaking beneath him as he did. He touched Castiel’s jaw, running his fingers across Castiel’s lips. Castiel opened his mouth obediently, leaning forward to lick at Dean’s cock. Dean sighed softly, the feeling of Castiel’s tongue lapping and licking at him soothing. He stroked his fingers through Castiel’s hair, smiling at him.

“You’re so good at this, Castiel. So good.” 

He wanted to remember Castiel like this, completely stuffed full of cock – one in his mouth and two in his ass. This was the sort of thing that Dean had fantasies about, the kind of depraved thing he’d jerked himself off to when he was alone in the shower, before he and Castiel had even got together. One version of Castiel, three versions of himself, and the air hot and heavy with the scent of sex. Now it was real and both better and worse than Dean had imagined it. 

“I love you, Cas, I love you so much, baby,” he whispered, not caring that the other versions of him could hear him. He didn’t care what they thought about him, didn’t care if that love could be seen as a weakness. He needed Castiel to know. He needed him to know that everything Dean had done had been for him. 

Castiel looked up at him, managing to look impossibly innocent with his lips wrapped round Dean’s cock. A shudder ran through Dean, his balls aching and he felt like he was coming but he was coming dry. He grabbed a handful of Castiel’s hair, groaning loudly. Castiel kept looking at him, kept sucking on his softening cock. Dean couldn’t believe how perfect he was. 

“Oh fuck,” Dean Smith swore. His eyes were glued to Castiel’s mouth. He was rocking his hips, hardly seeming to be aware he was doing it. Dean knew what he was feeling. He’d seen Castiel like this hundreds of times. He’d brought Castiel to the edge so often. He’d seen him fall apart, seen him in the throes of lust, but this was the first time Dean Smith had ever seen it. Dean had to admit, it was something to behold. 

“Wrap your fingers around him, get him to come,” he instructed. He had the feeling Castiel had to come. It had to be part of the curse and part of the way to break it. 

Dean Smith did as ordered, taking Castiel’s cock in his hand, his grip tight, punishing almost. He set a brutal pace, pushing Castiel towards his orgasm. Castiel shut his eyes, letting Dean’s soft cock slip from between his lips. He moaned, reaching to hold on to the men fucking him, completely lost in the sensation of the two of them driving into him and the hand on his cock. 

“Dean!” he cried out. 

Watching Castiel come was always something Dean savored. He looked so beautiful, a creature given over to lust and sin, an angel corrupted for those few precious seconds. He didn’t belong to Heaven or to God in those moments. He belonged completely and utterly to Dean. 

Castiel cried out again, his body tensing as his cock jerked in Dean Smith’s hand and he came. 

Dean Smith bit his lip, grunting and followed him, thrusting his hips up once before holding still, the muscles in his legs trembling as he came too. 

A few moments later, Dean Smith pulled his spent cock free, drawing a deep breath. He wrapped his arms around Castiel, holding him up while the future-Dean pounded into him. Castiel’s breathing was labored, little gasps and moans escaping from his mouth. Dean wondered where his future –self got the stamina from. He’d been the one buried inside Castiel for the longest. Maybe he was just used to this, to holding Castiel like this. Maybe in his drugged-out state, his Castiel was harder to satisfy. Dean didn’t know but he watched, impressed, as the man kept thrusting into Castiel. 

Castiel opened his eyes and he turned his head, nuzzling against the man’s jaw, his lips pressing there for a second, arousing Dean’s jealousy. 

“I already told you that I didn’t want either of you to kiss him,” he snapped. It didn’t matter that Castiel was the one doing the kissing; Dean was still going to blame his future-self. Castiel didn’t seem to hear him. He was still nudging against the man’s cheek.

“You can let go now,” he said softly. “It’s okay.” 

The future Dean snapped his hips, pumping desperately into Cas and then he bit his lip, coming silently as he continued to fuck into Castiel. Finally he stopped, resting his head against Castiel’s shoulder, breathing in deep shuddering breaths. He drew away from Castiel, easing out of him and pushed Castiel away, deep into Dean Smith’s arms. 

“That should have done it,” he murmured, falling back onto the bed. For a few seconds he smiled, looking relieved, but then just as quickly as it had appeared, the smile faded. The future version of Dean was as composed as he had always been, his true feelings hidden behind a carefully constructed mask. 

Dean pulled Castiel free from Dean Smith’s grip, tightening his own arms around Castiel and he kissed him, reclaiming Castiel for his own. He ran his hands up and down Castiel’s body, checking him all over. Castiel’s temperature was returning to normal, he wasn’t boiling hot any more. Dean could almost let himself believe that everything would be okay, that the spell really had been broken. 

He glanced up, looking at the two men on the bed, but they were already fading. The spell that had brought them there was broken. Dean mouthed “Thank you” to them before they were completely gone. 

He gave Castiel a little shake, needing to hear from his own lips that Castiel was fine now, that their attempt to break the spell had worked and that he didn’t need to call Sam and conduct another summoning ritual. 

“Cas? How do you feel?” he asked, unable to keep the fear out of his voice. 

Castiel tipped his head up, looking at Dean. He looked exhausted, completely spent and used. 

“Tired,” he said, his fingers tightening, holding Dean to him. “I feel tired, but the spell’s broken, Dean.”

“And us?” Dean asked. “Are we still okay, Cas?”

Castiel smiled.

“I love you too,” he said, lifting his head for another kiss. “You did the right thing, Dean.” 

**

**2014:**

Dean stood in the doorway of his hut, looking out over the camp site. The chance to relive that moment of his life, to make the right choice, had only confirmed to Dean the mistakes he’d made, the ones that had led him to this terrible future. In that reality he’d still had Sam. In that reality, he’d looked for other options. 

It had been a shock to see Castiel like that, still so innocent and unworldly, still completely under Dean’s thrall. It had reminded him why he loved Castiel, why he still loved him even now that he was so changed. There was still a spark of that Castiel there. 

Speaking of Castiel, he could see his erstwhile lover in the middle of the camp, chatting to a group of women. He was probably dispensing some of his new found drugged-up wisdom. Dean put his fingers to his lips, issuing a high pitched whistle that caused Castiel to turn his head. He pointed at Castiel, and then pointed to the space beside him, a clear signal about where he wanted Castiel to be. 

Dean didn’t have to be close to him to know Castiel would be rolling his eyes. Despite that, Castiel still jogged up the steps to his hut.

“Whistles are for dogs,” he said as he reached Dean’s side. 

“I want you tonight,” Dean said, ignoring what Castiel had said. He wouldn’t have to whistle for him if Castiel would just stay close. 

Castiel’s eyes widened. 

“Oh. Right,” he said, glancing back to the group of women he’d been talking to. “Do you want me to organize an orgy or find some guy?” 

“No,” Dean said quickly. “I just want you. I want you to get into my bed and I want you to stay there.”

Castiel’s brow furrowed as he puzzled for a moment. Then he smiled.

“Are you asking me to move in with you, glorious leader?” 

“In,” Dean ordered him. 

Castiel grinned widely at him, brushing past him as he headed inside Dean’s cabin. Dean allowed himself a small smile as he followed him. 

He couldn’t make everything right, but he could do this. 

**

**Dean Smith:**

While Dean Smith was growing used to strange occurrences and odd, unexplained happenings; that was the first time he’d ever been summoned by a spell. Discovering that there were other versions of himself had been an eye opener, but that wasn’t dwelling on his mind anywhere near as much as meeting Castiel. 

Dean couldn’t get over the fact that he’d been summoned to have sex with that perfect, pliant, vision of a man. It was like something out of a dream but now it was turning into a nightmare. He’d had one taste of Castiel and he craved more. 

The other versions of him had both had their own Castiel. He was the only one who didn’t. Dean had no idea where to start looking for his Castiel either. He only knew that he had to find him. The other Dean had been right. He wouldn’t be complete until he found him. 

There was a knock on his office door then and Dean looked up irritably. He knew he was supposed to be working on a report and that he had to meet Sam after work to check out some suspicious activity down by the waterfront but he kept drifting off, remembering Castiel. He didn’t want to be reminded of his responsibilities. 

“Come in,” he called, knowing he couldn’t put it off forever. 

The door to his office opened and his boss, Mr Adler, stepped in. 

“Dean, I just wondered if you had a moment. I’d like to introduce you to the new junior member of our team.”

He beckoned to someone just beyond the door and a second later Castiel stepped into the office. 

Dean wondered if he was dreaming. He pinched himself, a small burst of pain flaring up in his hand where he’d pinched the skin, proving that he was awake. He stood up, stepping out from behind his desk. 

“You’re Castiel,” he said, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to get to Castiel’s side and shake his hand. 

“Yes,” Castiel said, looking surprised. “Castiel Novak, I just started here today.”

“Right, yes.” Dean nodded, holding on to Castiel’s hand, unwilling to let go. He knew his boss was still there but he didn’t care. Castiel was real and he was standing in Dean’s office, so close that Dean could kiss him if he wanted to, and he really did want to. 

“Can I take you out to lunch?” he asked. “After all, you are the new guy. I should try and make you feel at home.”

Castiel smiled softly.

“Yes, I’d like that,” he said quietly. 

“It’s good to see you getting on so well,” Mr Adler said. He looked almost relieved to have someone show an interest in Castiel. “I trust, Dean, that you wouldn’t mind showing Castiel the ropes?”

“I’d be more than happy to,” Dean agreed, thinking of the sort of ropes he had back at his apartment, the kind he kept for special visitors. The black rope would look especially good around Castiel’s pale wrists. “Come on, Cas, let’s grab an early lunch and you can tell me about yourself.”

And when an early lunch turned into dinner, and then drinks, and ended up as breakfast in bed, Dean Smith was the happiest man alive. 

Even if he did have to put up with angry texts from Sam when he bailed on their monster-hunting activities for the night.


End file.
